


Crossing Wires

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [119]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF, The Boys (TV 2019) RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: In Citadel, Antony Starr is an AU (alternate universe) character. He tells people he's an IT Risk Management and Computer Security Consultant (his official cover) but really he's a ex-military, sometimes mercenary, computer hacker and master thief hired by collectors and other ruthless people to steal for them: art, jewels, money, information... Citadel knows Antony's true occupation and he would never target the organization or any of its membership. Through Cit, he's met Stephen Amell (played RL) and fallen hard. This is their story.





	Crossing Wires

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

**players only. takes place a few weeks after[the boys take their trip to New York](https://antony-starr.dreamwidth.org/15365.html).**

_warnings: none_

He's actually not supposed to be home til late tonight but the job went quicker than planned in the end and everyone voted for getting on the goddamn plane as soon as it could be readied rather than spending another night in that hell hole. The haul divided and stashed in safes, Antony contemplates heading home and to bed or dropping by the set. After two weeks away from his husband there's no contest and very shortly he's pulling into one of the spots reserved for guests and flashing his ID at security.

"Mother fucking..." Stephen growls under his breath as he fucks up his line again, which earns him a concerned look from both David and his director, this is not like Stephen at all. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes just a moment and centres himself as he exhales hard, imagining he's pushing out all the nervousness and tension Antony's absence has created in him.

"I'm good, once more," he nods, eyes opening. "I'll get it this time."

*********

Head down, his hands flexing as he opens and closes his fists, he makes for his trailer. Christos isn't on set, Stephen has him off meeting a realtor about the new, new addition to their property portfolio - a New York loft, though right now Stephen's wondering if it's worth it, Antony's been away more than he's been home since the New Year and despite the brief idyllic break in New York, he's been left feeling disconnected. Still, Antony should be home tonight, and then Stephen only has a few days before he gets a day off, a day he's going to spend with his husband, in bed.

Mounting the steps to his trailer he yanks open the door with a little more force than usual and steps in.

Antony makes the smallest small talk with cast and crew he can get away with before heading for Stephen's trailer. He knocks on the door, hands shoved in his pockets, exhaustion starting to take its toll.

Stephen's pulled on some old jeans and he's busy wiping his makeup off with a wipe when there's a knock at the door.

"Come in," he calls out, assuming it's costume come to pick up his Green Arrow leathers, which he's already laid out.

"Hey," Antony says softly, letting himself in and locking the door behind him. "I thought you might like a ride home."

Stephen stills, he doesn't turn around straight away, he closes his eyes and lets that voice, that accent just roll over him. He lowers his hand and then turns on the ball of one foot, meets Antony's gaze from across the way. Antony looks untidy, unkempt, which is not like him, and evidence that he's come here straight from the airport. There's a lump in Stephen's throat, and it's evident in how rough his voice sounds when he speaks. "You're home."

"Yeah, I am. For a while," Antony says, but they can talk about that later. He moves forward, closing the distance between them. Pulling Stephen in close and kissing him hard, everything about how much he's missed him poured into that kiss.

Stephen's hands press against Antony's back, his fingers press in bruisingly tight as he holds his husband close, his mouth opening to that kiss. He drinks it in like a man starved of water for too long. There are tears in his eyes when finally, they break to breathe. Forehead to forehead he inhales Antony's scent, he huffs out as soft, wry noise. "You need a shower."

Antony chuckles. "I thought you might say that, but it was shower or come see you and I couldn't wait," he confesses.

"I'm glad you chose here too," he whispers. "This last week's been too long."

"I know," Antony says, exhaling softly. "I'm sorry." He kisses Stephen again, presses their foreheads together. "But Marcus is doing the next job with Dhimitër so you've got me for a month." He grins. "Enough time to actually get sick of me."

"What?" Stephen pulls back, his brow drawn down in frown. "They're going without you?" It's unheard of, certainly since he and Antony have been an item.

Antony nods. "It's a trial run," he says. "Less important job, smaller, we've known the clients for years. Marcus'll take point and Dhimitër'll handle the social aspects." He shrugs and smiles. "We'll see how it goes."

Stephen lifts his hand, his fingers play over the dark whiskers that cover Antony's cheek, the frown not bleeding away immediately. "Who did you do this for? Me?"

"I did it for both of us," Antony says quietly, after a moment. "I've been away too much," which he knows has been affecting Stephen, "and I need to find out how I handle being here, at home, for longer."

Swallowing hard, Stephen gives a brief nod and his hand falls away. Now's not the time to talk about it, not when Stephen is still reeling from this surprise, and his chest feels tight from the force of his emotions. "We can go, I just got the go ahead," he steps away. "Take me home."

"Okay," Antony nods, hoping Stephen's pleased with his news. Everyone else he can read like a book, but his husband's still a mystery to him. He leads the way to the car, opening the trunk for Stephen to drop his bag in. "Are you hungry? Do you want to stop somewhere?"

"No, I want to go home," Stephen manages a smile. Since he's laid eyes on Antony he's had eyes only for his husband, like Antony might just disappear if he looks away. "We can order in, I was going to go to the grocery store on the way home and stock up before you came home, but..." he climbs in the car and settles. "I think a bath is in order, a large, hot, deep bath."

"And my clothes in the laundry?" Antony grins, pulling out of the parking space.

"You don't smell _bad_ per se, rather... you just don't smell like you," Stephen sets his hand on Antony's thigh, needing that connection.

Antony smiles at the touch. Christ it feels good to be home. He glances over at Stephen, his chest going tight at the sight of his husband, at the sight of the chain circling his throat. "I'm too close to it to know what I smell like," he says with a soft laugh. "But we were really glad to get out of there. Everyone voted for coming home the second we were done."

"Was it that bad?" Stephen's forefinger rubs back and forth over the denim on Antony's thigh. Antony does look tired as well as dishevelled, but then the tiredness is nothing new after he's been away.

Antony glances at Stephen again, gauging whether his husband really wants to hear this. "Yeah, it was. It went better than planned in the end but it was a shit job and we only took it because I owed the client a favour."

"I'd imagine that sits uncomfortably for you," Stephen muses softly, "owing people favours like that," he clarifies.

Which shows just how well Stephen knows him. "Yeah, it does," Antony says, blowing out a soft breath. "I much prefer to be the one owed." Not that he ever goes out of his way to collect.

"And do many more people have that hold on you?" Stephen lowers his voice a little, as if speaking it louder makes it more... real.

"No." Antony snorts softly, shaking his head. He doesn't let himself get put in that position. Not if he can help it. And most of the time he can. "I owe Marcus but he owes me and I owe Tommy but it's the same sort of thing." He shakes his head again. "There's only one other person I owe like I owed this guy and I don't think he'll ever come calling."

"You don't think? Or you hope?" It occurs to Stephen as he presses for more information that this seems to be a pattern, that he's prepared to hear things about Antony's work when his husband is freshly returned from a job - and not once they've settled back into their usual day to day life.

"He lives in the middle of the Amazon," Antony says with a smile. "And he has almost no contact with civilization, so something pretty major would have to happen before he'd ever look me up."

"Hahaha, yeah I can see that," Stephen shakes his head. "And you and Marcus, you don't owe each other anything, your friendship runs too deep for that, it just... is."

Antony makes a soft sound at that. Part chuckle, part snort. "I guess so." But he knows Stephen's right.

"I know so," Stephen turns to look out of the car window, his finger doesn't stop moving however, rubbing back and forth. After a few minutes quiet he blows out a soft breath; he's tired and he's been on edge again since Antony went away. It doesn't all just evaporate the moment his husband is home.

"You okay?" Antony asks, concerned.

"I will be, now you're back. I just need centring again," Stephen's shoulders lift in a vaguely dismissive shrug. "I've been feeling the absence of my Sir too," the latter is said more quietly and his finger stills. "But I needed you, just you, and now you're back."

Stopped at a red light, Antony watches Stephen, his words - all of them - sinking in. "Is my being away affecting your work?"

It was the one thing he was going to keep to himself, the one thing he wasn't going to volunteer. Because yes it has, but only today, only on the day he was expecting Antony home, like knowing his husband was returning lowered his guards enough to let his control slip. He won't lie, but he can't say the words either, so he presses his lips together and dips his head. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm so needy..._

Fuck. More than anything else, that tells Antony just how much his absences are screwing up his husband. One hand on the steering wheel, he drops the other to curl around Stephen's hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'm home for at least a month," he says, "and after that I'll make sure I'm not gone for more than a week and not more than once a month." It might not be ideal but it's better than what he's been doing. "And I'm still talking to Marcus about opening up a New York office and doing more legit stuff remotely."

"I'm sorry," Stephen mumbles, not wanting to look up.

"Don't be," Antony says firmly. "Before I met you, I don't think the word retirement was even in my vocabulary and that's not a good thing. I was going to work myself into the ground or go out doing something stupid. Now I want a beach house and a loft and a future in which to enjoy those things with you." He glances over again, giving Stephen's hand another squeeze. "You're not making me do this. You're making me _want_ to and there's a huge fucking difference."

"But I feel like I'm being needy," Stephen risks a glance at Antony. "I managed before you, I did my job, I... _functioned_ for fucks sake and now..." he shakes his head, aware on some level he's being hard on himself, because he has done things, he has been out - as per Antony's request - with his cast mates. He has spent time looking at lofts and beach houses, bought groceries, hit the gym, done all the normal things he'd expect to do.

"Now what?"

Stephen shakes his head. "Tony, I'm tired, I'm emotional, and I just need to curl up beside you, and when I'm feeling a little less fraught, everything will be back in perspective." He swallows hard and makes a concerted effort to get his shit together. "I guess you turning up like that threw me a little, not that I'd have had it any other way."

It's in Antony's nature to push but wisely, he doesn't. Takes Stephen at his word that his surprise was still a good one and that he's just feeling off-kilter. He pulls into the garage. "Pizza or Chinese?"

"'Za, so you can have your favourite." Stephen leans over to press a kiss to Antony's cheek. "I love you, and I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too," Antony says with a smile. "I'll order the food while you fix the bath."

"Bubbles? Wine? or Scotch?" There's a whole new case of Antony's Balvenie in to crack open.

"Bubbles in the bath or as in champagne?" Antony asks, pressing his thumb against the reader for the elevator, both their bags in hand.

Laughing, Stephen follows Antony into the elevator when it pings open. "I meant, do you want bubbles in your bath, and wine or scotch to drink?"

"Scotch and hm. Bubbles sound good as long as I don't end up smelling all girly," Antony teases.

Arching an amused brow at his husband Stephen asks, "When have I ever made you smell 'girly'?"

"Hey, there's always a first time," Antony says, laughing as he pushes the button for the penthouse.

"I'm most assuredly gay, so why on earth would I want my very masculine husband to smell 'girly'," And Stephen mock shudders to add weight to his argument.

"Well, your very masculine husband is smelling _way too_ masculine right now, so you'd better fix that part," Antony says with a laugh, nose wrinkling as he gives himself a sniff.

"Ew," Stephen laughs at that. "A bath, with bubbles, and scotch coming up."

"Maybe I should just incinerate the clothes," Antony suggests, leaning in to kiss Stephen anyway, the doors to their floor sliding open as he does.

"You don't smell _that_ bad." Stephen steps out, he makes to pause at the table in the middle of the entrance, the box he'd normally keep his slave collar in is still there. But it's empty, the collar stored in a box in their bedroom instead. He gives himself a little shake and side steps toward the front door.

Antony notices the hesitation but he keeps quiet, unlocking the door to their home and letting them inside. "Usual?" he asks, grabbing the menu for their favourite pizza delivery place at the same time as he starts working on the laces to his boots.

"Extra cheese and an extra garlic bread, I've been practically angelic while you've been gone, I actually need to maintain." He's dropped all the weight he'd put on over their honeymoon and Christmas and he's borderline needing to eat a little more, so a scotch and pizza blow out certainly isn't going to hurt. "I'll start on the bath." He takes his bag through to the bedroom before hitting up the bathroom. Taps on full, some innocuous bath bubbles poured in, Stephen leaves it to run while he pulls his clothes off.

Antony calls in their order, tosses his clothes in the washer, his jacket wrapped to go to the dry cleaners, and puts out plates and napkins on a tray. "We've got forty-five minutes," he says, sticking his head in the bathroom and grinning at Stephen. "They're running slow tonight."

"C'mon in then," Stephen's keen to check out the state his husband is in physically, last time he came home he was battered and bruised.

Antony steps naked into the bathroom, glancing at himself in the mirror. "You want me to shave this first?" he asks, gesturing at his scruff which is really more than scruff should be.

"No, we can soften it in the bath, you can do it later, or tomorrow," Stephen pulls Antony closer and turns him on the spot, clearly inspecting him. "This is better," he murmurs, his fingers skipping over a small bruise and a long scratch.

"I was extra careful," Antony says with a smile, watching Stephen inspecting him in their reflection.

"Good," Stephen steps back, satisfied. He's as lean and cut as he's ever been, he's been working incredibly hard in the last few weeks - most of his time off set has been either working out or sleeping. Means of distraction.

"You look good," Antony says, reaching out to pull Stephen back in. "You always look good but I can really tell you've been working out. How's the leg?"

"It's fine." And it's not a lie. "Kim's more than happy, he's pretty sure I'm nearly healed and he's wanting to work with me on and off after he's discharged me to make sure I stay that way." He's pleased at Antony's pleasure in him, he loves being decorative for his lover, his Sir. "I'm right on the line of needing to eat more," he admits quietly.

"That shouldn't be a problem with me home," Antony teases softly, hiding the ache at the obvious distress he's caused his husband, his boy.

"No Sir." The word is out before he can stop it. And despite their agreement that 'Sir' would still be present, after two weeks apart, Stephen doesn't want Antony to think he's pushing for that. He turns, busies himself with the taps, swirls the water around with his hand. "It's how you like it," he offers softly.

"Thank you," Antony says. "I didn't even get a hot shower while I was away. This is gonna seem like heaven," he adds, stepping in with a low groan of pleasure before he settles against the back of the tub, room made for Stephen between his thighs. "Perfect."

Taking his customary place, Stephen closes his eyes as he leans back into Antony's chest, he can feel his lover's breath on the skin of his neck and it makes him shiver.

"I missed you so much," Antony murmurs, running his hand down Stephen's chest and stomach, fingers teasing into the curls at the base of his groin. "I kept dreaming I was at home."

 _I've been so lonely again..._ Even having Christos hadn't really helped much, another distraction, nothing more. "I missed you too." And that, those four words don't even come close to it, Stephen tilts his head, offering Antony his throat.

Pressing his mouth to the bared skin, Antony kisses a path along the chain adorning Stephen's neck. He trails his fingers over the length of Stephen's cock, his own hardening in return, swelling against Stephen's back. "I'm going to make it better," he whispers. "I promise."

"Really?" Stephen's heard this before, and then it went wrong and now Antony's been gone more than ever. His body doesn't respond as it might, as it usually does at Antony's proximity, at his caresses, especially after such an absence.

"I promise," Antony repeats, taking Stephen's cock in hand. "We took care of things, we did this other job, _now_ I can start delegating, diversifying here..."

Stephen does something he's never done before; he reaches down and pushes Antony's hand away, off his cock. Then he turns in the water to face his husband. "And nothing will stop you this time?" He searches Antony face for some sense he's being placated.

It's on the tip of Antony's tongue to point out that he's not the bad guy here. That Stephen encouraged him to do what he needed to do, to make sure things were settled, but he bites the words back, knowing they're pointless. A way to soothe his ego under Stephen's accusation that he hasn't kept his word. "Nothing will stop me," he says instead, holding Stephen's gaze. "I'm home for a month now and after that, I'll be gone for a week or less each month. One trip, no more. I'll make sure of it."

It's enough to loosen the knot in Stephen's chest, but not enough to unravel it completely - and it won't, not until Antony's proved that this time it's for real. "Thank you." He knows he's being unfair, but Stephen's too raw, been too lonely to try and play games any more.

"You're welcome," Antony says quietly. He holds his hand out. "Pass me the soap?"

Stephen blinks, it's such an oddly mundane thing to ask given the subject they'd been talking about, and that not moments ago his cock was in Antony's hand. "Um..." He turns and picks it up, goes to offer it over before shaking his head, coming back to himself. "No... I should do this," he dips the soap bar in the water and lathers it up.

"No, just let me," Antony says, holding his hand out again. "I'm sick and tired of being coated in grime and I can do it quicker."

Stung, Stephen hands over the soap, he looks down at his hands for a moment and then rinses them in the water before pushing up and climbing out. He grabs a towel and winds it around his hips. "I forgot your scotch," he says, his voice tight as he makes to leave the room.

"Wait." Fuck. "I'm sorry," Antony says, closing his eyes for a second. He doesn't know what got into him but with the way Stephen pushed him away... he's being passive-aggressive and that's so not like him. Never has been. "Please get back in the tub."

"No," Stephen throws over his shoulder. "I'm getting your scotch," he adds with firmly, even though he doesn't feel it. He feels like he wants to curl up and cry, this is not how it is when Antony comes home, even beaten and sore his husband had always been all about reconnecting.

Pulling the unopened bottle of Balvenie from the cupboard he pours Antony a large glass full, the rich spicy scent of it fills his nose, a smell he will always associate with Antony now.

Soap in hand, teeth gritted, Antony washes himself down quickly, fighting the urge to do something even pettier like empty the bath and take a damn shower or demand Stephen come back here _now_. He'd wanted to touch his boy, he'd wanted them to make love, reconnect, let the physical just take care of everything for a bit and instead they ended up here, in separate fucking rooms, not speaking. He might as well not even have come home.

 _This isn't how you earn your collar back._ Stephen tells himself. _Be the boy he wants you to be._ Taking a deep breath Stephen returns to the bathroom, he sets the glass within reach and pulls the towel off. "May I rejoin you?" he asks quietly.

Antony nods. "Yes." Waiting only until Stephen sits down to wrap his arms around his lover and hug him close. "I'm sorry. I was being an asshole."

The tension doesn't bleed out of Stephen's body immediately, he's too unsettled to just melt into Antony's embrace as he might normally do. "How is it you seem further away from me now than you did when you were away?" The question is pitched low, almost as if Stephen doesn't actually want Antony to hear it.

"I don't know," Antony says softly, "but I need you to trust me and I need you to touch me - to want me to touch you - and it doesn't feel like you do."

"I wanted to, I wanted to wash you, as your boy and your lover. To touch you and reassure myself that you were home, unhurt." He can't look Antony in the eye, but he does reach out, to finger the tags Antony's worn ever since he gave them to him.

"I am and this is the one place I wanted to be more than anything in the world," Antony assures him. "With you. I didn't even come home. I came to find you because I needed to see you so badly." He blows out a breath. "I wanted to touch you and you pushed me away and questioned my promises... and if there's one way I think of myself it's as true to my word..."

"You could have kept stroking me Tony, for all the good it would have done, I wouldn't have gotten hard. Not then, not even after two weeks apart. And it's not you, it's me." _It's always me, fucking up and making you unhappy._ "I wasn't expecting to see you, I got thrown, I was unsettled anyway. I just wish we could start over. Because fuck knows I've been waiting for this since the moment you left."

"Then let's start over," Antony says, willing to give it a try. "I'm going to shave and get dressed and go back downstairs. Wash up and put something on so you can answer the door for me?" he asks, already reaching for a towel.

"No, there's no need, you're tired, it's fine. Just, drink your scotch, wallow in the water and let me touch you... please?" He reaches out now, his fingers splaying over wet skin. "Don't go...not even for a moment."

"Are you sure?" Antony asks, paused between bath and towel. "Because I don't mind." _I'd do whatever it takes to make you happy._

"Yes, I'm sure," Stephen nods, moving closer. "Tony please..." he's almost pleading now.

Antony settles back in the water, the towel left hanging. He reaches for Stephen, pulling him back in close and buries his face against his husband's throat.

Stephen curls his hand around the back of Antony's neck, his thumb rubbing back and forth, he can feel Antony's breath, hot and damp against his skin. "It's fine, we're good, we're fine," he whispers, as much to soothe himself as Antony.

Are we? Antony can't help think it as quickly as he shoves it away, not wanting to give the momentary doubt any attention. He simply hugs Stephen even tighter before raising his head to give him a soft kiss.

And this, this kiss is where it should have all started, full of tenderness, of the ache of separation, the desperate need to reconnect. Stephen's lips part and he encourages Antony to take more, his fingers pressing tighter. _I need you...my darling man._

Antony deepens the kiss, letting his tongue delve between Stephen's lips, his desire, his need for this man, his husband, his boy, his lover, coming to the fore again, overriding everything else.

Stephen's body's response is exactly as it should be this time, his cock thickens, his skin flushes and he arches into Antony, begging silently for more. He kisses back with equal passion, equal need.

Groaning into Stephen's mouth, Antony pulls Stephen to straddle him, thankful for the huge tub that can fit both of them in almost any position. He runs his hands over Stephen, shoulders, back, ass, relearning, remapping every inch of him.

"Bed?" Stephen nips at Antony's lower lip. "It's always better in bed," he points out, whilst it'd be a pain to get out now, he'd rather do that than have to climb out when they've fucked and his body will be all kinds of uncoordinated.

Antony groans again but he grins and nods, waiting until Stephen's out of the tub to join him, the two of them rubbing each other quickly down with their towels. "Dry enough," he determines, nudging his lover out the door, his glass of scotch brought with them, a quick sip shared with Stephen, the taste still on his tongue as he kisses him, again and again, pushing him down onto the bed, the glass safely slid onto the nightstand.

Stephen opens his arms to Antony, pulling him in to let his the weight of him settle, skin to skin he lets his hands play over Antony's back, fingers trailing along the bumps of his spine, down to the cleft of his ass and back up again. "Make love to me Tony..." he implores, "Show me..."

Antony kisses his way along Stephen's jaw, down his throat, along his collar. Slowly, thoroughly, but not moving any lower. When his husband wants him to make love to him, he wants Antony inside him, buried deep. He reaches for the lube on the nightstand and slicks his fingers, eyes locked on Stephen's face as he slips his hand between them, breaching his body with two gentle fingers, then three, opening him up slowly but surely. "You are my home," he whispers. "You're all I need. All I've ever wanted."

Those words are what Stephen needed to hear, he needed the intimacy, the vulnerability that Antony only shows in the privacy of their bed. "I love you, so much," Stephen returns. "You're my all, Tony."

Antony drops down to kiss Stephen, licking into his mouth, letting their tongues tangle, the urgency held at bay as he lines up and slowly pushes inside.

The sound that spills from Stephen's mouth is one of utter pleasure, sure it's uncomfortable, Antony's so large, and it's been two weeks, but it's perfect. Digging his nails into the meat of his husband’s shoulders, Stephen arches up. "Yes!...Fuck yes!"

The response sets fire to Antony's need and it's only through sheer willpower that he still holds back, slowly easing into his lover until he's balls deep inside him.

Stephen opens his eyes, looks up into Antony's face, he can see the restraint, the effort to not simply give into an all consuming primal lust. "Let me be what you need... find your centre in me Antony, husband, lover, or Sir... let me be that..." His words are low and rough with need.

"You are, always," Antony says, beginning to move, his cock throbbing roughly inside Stephen. "But I want this to last."

Antony _never_ makes it last, not after an absence of this length - but Stephen pushes the thought aside, not prepared to waste even a second of this intimacy. Rocking his hips in time with Antony's movements, Stephen matches him, uses his mouth, his tongue to taste and tease, his teeth nibble along his husband's shoulder.

"Ah, Jesus, you don't want me to last, do you?" Antony says with a soft laugh, unable to help himself, his hips already moving faster, his whole body aching.

"No... I want to be full of your cum, I want to have my hips ache, I want to smell of you," Stephen returns, his breath hitching with each punch of Antony's body into his own. "I want all that, until I can't move and I know... I know you're mine again..."

And with that Antony stops trying to hold out. He pushes up onto his hands and, hips snapping, pounds into Stephen, chasing his orgasm like a man possessed.

This... this urgency, this need... this Stephen is familiar with - and he finds comfort in it. In Antony losing control, in being the object of his husband's need and pleasure. Breathless, sweaty, flushed, Stephen gives himself up, his noises rising with each thrust, until he's crying out Antony's name over and over.

"Want you to come with me," Antony growls softly, dropping down to nip at Stephen's lower lip, holding on, holding out, only by the sheerest thread.

His answer is a half nod, the only sign Stephen understood, he's so close he'd have been begging if he wasn't so lost in his husband and the intensity of this reunion.

That nod's like a match, Antony going up in flames, shouting out into the room as he comes and comes hard, pulse after thick heated pulse filling his lover.

Holding tight, like he might just fly apart in the face of the force of Antony's orgasm, Stephen's just a heartbeat behind him. Teeth bared he growls out an almost pained noise as he slicks their bellies with his own semen.

"Oh fuck yes," Antony breathes, feeling the wet heat paint his skin, Stephen's body clamping down tight around his cock. "That's it."

When his crisis passes, Stephen slumps, all tension purged from his body, his eyelids drop hiding his eyes and he lies there, gasping for air.

Antony drops down, draping himself over his husband, in no hurry to move. "You have no idea how glad I am to be home, with you," he says quietly. "Every second I wasn't working, it's all I thought about."

"I know how that is," Stephen's fingers restart their dance over Antony's back. He doesn't add however that Antony has the choice, he can choose to stay home, to concentrate on working from his head office and not go away like he does. Stephen doesn't get that luxury.

"Can I come in with you tomorrow?" Antony asks, kissing Stephen again, his mouth soft and warm. "You can make Christos stay home and I'll fill in."

"Don't you want a day to rest? To settle back in?" He brings his hand up to rub his fingers in the more-than-stubble-but-not-quite-a-beard scruff covering Antony's face. "You look tired, darling man." Antony always does, he carries a heavy responsibility when he's away, not just in completing whatever job it is, but that all his crew are safe, that they all come home in one piece, and it's etched in his countenance each and every time he returns.

Antony shakes his head. "I want to be with you, and I've got a whole month to rest," he says, leaning into Stephen's touch.

"Okay." It's an easy concession. "Maybe you and Christos can catch up? He's been getting details of suitable lofts for us, and we've got beach houses to check out when I've got the time." He pets Antony's face, the whiskers harsh against his fingertips. "I'll be busy, but knowing you're nearby..."

"That sounds good," Antony murmurs. He smiles. "You ever shaved anyone?"

Stephen's eyes snap to meet Antony's. "A long time ago, but..." his fingers still. "I'd like that," he adds after a pause, his immediate reaction is that it's a service task, an intimate one, and it's something that he feels he has no right to at the moment. Even so, he won't tell Antony that, he'll take the opportunity and relish it.

Antony starts to say something but then his phone rings. "Fuck. Pizza," he says, glancing at the screen. Only now remembering that he's _starving_. "Let them up," he tells the concierge. "You can do it after," he tells Stephen with another kiss, easing out and off his lover.

Stephen's body feels the loss of Antony, not just inside him, that most intimate of connections, but his heat, his weight. He pushes up, grimaces as his hips, do indeed protest and swings his legs off the bed. "I'll go wash up, then grab plates and shit," he offers as he pushes up, his belly and pubic hair still damp with his own cum.

"Already taken care of," Antony tells him, cleaning himself off with a tissue and grabbing a pair of pajama pants. "I'll meet you back here unless you want to eat in front of the TV?"

"No, bed is good," Stephen nods, he throws Antony a quick smile. "I get to sleep beside you tonight."

Antony grins. "I call big spoon," he teases before heading for the front door.

He watches his husband leave, rooted to the spot for a moment in thought. Despite the sex, despite the easiness between them now, he's still feeling bemused at their miscommunication. It's so not like them, not really, and certainly not when Antony's been away. Ever since their Warehouse scene, when Antony had taken him apart things have been... off... as if when he'd been put back together a piece had been put back wrong, not quite slotted back into his designated place.

Antony pays for the pizza, watches the guy get back on the elevator, and grabs the tray with the plates and a couple of beers from the fridge. He settles everything in the middle of the bed, grinning at Stephen when he comes out of the bathroom. "Extra garlic bread," he says, holding out the container.

"Oh fuck yes!" Stephen grabs the packet even before he's planted his butt back on the bed. His mouth is watering as he rips it open and shoves a slice in his mouth. "Carbs...beautiful, fattening, carbs...." he manages around his mouthful.

Antony laughs, watching Stephen wolf down the garlic bread. "You really didn't eat enough while I was away, did you?" He thinks about saying something to Christos but the last thing he wants is someone, especially another dominant, trying to police his husband. His boy. And he suspects Stephen wouldn't be too damn happy about it either.

"I ate!" Stephen protests, and he did, just not the calorie, carb heavy food he adores. "Just not this kind of filth," he waves a second piece in Antony's face before inhaling that too. Only then does he pause to eye up the pizza.

The second Stephen checks out the pizza, Antony's got two slices on a plate, handing it over along with a napkin. He's doing pretty fair work of polishing off his second piece - thank god they got a large - and his stomach's only now beginning to register it's receiving food. "This job," he says, pausing, not sure if Stephen wants to hear it or not. "Food sucked," he finishes, cutting short what he'd intended to say.

There's a raised brow and Stephen takes the time to swallow and lick cheese grease from his lip before asking. "Just the food?" Because hadn't Antony said they'd all wanted to get out as soon as possible? And he'd come straight to him rather than coming home.

"No." Antony exhales softly. "Everything about it sucked." Watching Stephen for another moment before admitting, "We were out in the middle of nowhere, bunking down on the ground and eating military rations and some of our intel was fucked so when we went in to do the job things weren't where they were supposed to be."

And that? That puts things into perspective a little - two weeks of that would have anyone feeling off, so no wonder Antony and he hadn't just 'clicked' back into place. There's not much Stephen can say, but he does reach out to take Antony's hand, he turns it over and kisses his palm. _You're home now..._ "I've some TLC to deliver for the next few days then huh?" he offers softly.

"Just being home and with you goes a long way," Antony says, although Stephen's reaction? His not shrinking away from Antony talking about his work? That goes even further. Tears prick his eyes and he blinks them back, leaning in for a quick kiss.

"When you tell me things like that, I can't help wonder why you still do it?" Stephen's observation is made without judgement, his tone even and low. "The buzz can only be minimal compared to the discomfort." And it's not like Antony needs the money, he has more money than they can ever get through.

"They're not all like this," Antony points out. "This was a favour, something owed."

"No, the last one you came home beaten, that must've been fun times," Stephen remarks drily, he picks a slice of pepperoni of his pizza and pops it in his mouth. "Should I assume I'm lucky that you don't come home like that more often?"

Antony rubs a hand over his face. Fuck. "That one was necessary," he says with a sigh. "So I wouldn't have to keep looking over our shoulders, but the other ones, they _are_ fun," and even that one, wiping out the whole fucking group of assholes who had plagued them the last few months, that was at least satisfying. Putting things right. "But I don't need to keep doing this shit," he says, leaning back against his pillow and smiling at Stephen. "There's you, the gym, a new office in New York, lots of jobs here State-side..."

"And the ones here, you'll keep them...." _legal_ "...above board?" Stephen picks up one last slice of garlic bread and nibbles the edge of it as he watches Antony relax.

Antony doesn't answer that. Not right away. "Mostly?" he says finally, hoping it's a compromise Stephen can live with.

"How 'mostly'?" There's a small curl to the corner of Stephen's mouth, because yeah, worrying about Antony abroad and worrying about Antony being arrested here? There's not a whole heap of difference.

"Ninety percent," Antony responds, giving it some more thought. "I have a longstanding client, who's good friends with Louis, and some work I do for Louis too, some of which isn't above board but I can't give it up. There's no one else who can handle their stuff who's anywhere near as good as me."

It's enough. Just. Stephen nods, he sucks the garlic butter off his thumb. "I can live with that." He hopes he can anyway, he'll do his best, because it'll be a small price to pay for having his husband home.

"Good." Antony smiles and holds up the last slice of garlic bread. "Want mine?"

Shaking his head Stephen smiles. "No, thank you, I'm about fit to explode." There's nothing left of the pizza but greasy stains on the box. "Would you like another drink?"

Antony nods. "Can I get a refill on my scotch?" he asks. He likes beer, especially with food, but now that he's done eating he'd rather have his favourite poison.

"I'll bring the bottle in," Stephen climbs off the bed, clears the pizza debris away. When he reappears it's with Antony's bottle of scotch and a bottle of red wine and glass for himself. He tops up Antony's glass and offers it over before pouring his own drink, he climbs back up on the bed and sits, cross legged beside his husband.

Antony smiles at Stephen, taking a moment just to drink in the sight of his husband. "So, what did you do while I was away? Other than work out and see Kim and Christos," he adds.

"Um... worked," Stephen snorts as he takes a healthy mouthful of the wine, it's the delicious red he'd discovered just before Christmas. "It's always insanely busy when I get back after hiatus. Between readings, choreography, shooting and all the PR. I've been pulling long days, hitting the gym and squeezing in plotting with Christos during my breaks."

"I meant when you were off," Antony retorts, sticking his tongue out with a laugh. "But yeah, it doesn't sound like there was much time left for anything else." He sips at his scotch. "No drinks with your co-workers?"

Stephen takes another drink, his demeanour becoming more serious, "Yes I did, we all went out one night, and then I took Katie out another, just the two of us." He swirls his wine around his glass. "I promised you I would."

Antony nods. "Did it feel good to get out?"

"Yeah, yeah it did," Stephen nods, his expression going thoughtful for a moment. "When it was all of us it was just a huge laugh, Colton is a real joker, the girls were teasing him, it was... yeah, I had a lot of fun." His eyes twinkle as he leans in, "But when it was just Katie and I? The waiting staff must've thought we were on a date, and she did nothing to disabuse them of the idea, she was wicked. She enjoyed tormenting them all far too much."

It's a good thing Stephen's gay because it ensures the sudden flash of jealousy Antony experiences can be easily extinguished. "Yeah? What'd she do?"

"Every time they came near us she turned on the flirting, flipping her hair and pretending I was the most fascinating person in the room," Stephen laughs and shakes his head. "And then when we were alone she wanted to know where I keep finding all these hot guys..."

"Guys?" Antony asks, eyebrow raised and emphasis on the plural.

"You, and now Christos," Stephen smirks over the rim of his glass.

"I knew I should have gotten you the ugliest bastard I could find," Antony quips.

"Hmm, do I not deserve the best of everything darling man?" Stephen teases. "The most gorgeous husband _and_ a hot PA?"

Antony sighs, rolling his eyes at his husband. Obviously teasing. "Yes." He grins and leans in, kissing Stephen firmly on the mouth.

"Talking of PA's...." Stephen takes Antony's free hand by the wrist, and brings it down to his genitals. "Mine's healed..." he offers softly.

Fuck. The breath goes out of him like that and Antony's cock throbs so sharply it almost hurts. "Have you touched it?" he asks, lightly wrapping his fingers around Stephen and shifting closer.

He could lie, but he doesn't. "Yes." The 'Sir' is notable by its absence, and Stephen feels it keenly.

"How does it feel?" Antony asks. "Is it still sore?" He leans in even closer, inspecting the site, the actual hole.

"It's fine, it's not sore at all," Reaching down he carefully pulls back his foreskin fully, exposing the head with its ring. "I think it might need changing down to something a little more snug fitting, but it's healed."

"I think you're right," Antony says, running his finger along the ring, his gaze flickering to Stephen's face as he takes it between two fingers and gives it the lightest of tugs.

"What? That it's healed, or that it needs a new ring?" The questions are punctuated by the hitch in Stephen's breath at the pull, his eyes widening at the sensation. "Wow...."

"Both," Antony grins. "Lie down."

Stephen juggles his wine glass, setting it on the bedside table before he lays himself down, sprawling over the unkempt bed clothes. He watches Antony keenly, not entirely certain where this is headed.

Moving between Stephen's thighs, Antony lowers his head, watching Stephen through his lashes as he drags his tongue from base to tip, only _just_ ignoring the ring.

The moan is low, and Stephen shifts beneath his husband, his hips rising off the bed for a moment before settling again, his ass clenching.

Antony grins, repeating the movement but this time he licks over the ring, the metal, tongue teasing at the sensitive skin around the piercing.

Stephen's cock thickens fully at that second wicked tease, he pushes up onto his elbows, looks down at his husband through hooded eyes. "Use your teeth," he murmurs, in an unusually direct manner.

"I'm getting there," Antony says, closing his mouth around the head, sucking hard before he drags his teeth over the crown, pulling off only to grip the ring with his teeth, giving it an almost gentle tug.

"Fuck!" Stephen hisses out, aroused not just at the feel of the metal pulling on his cock head, but at the sight of Antony doing it, it's so... hot and nasty. "Fuck!"

"You like that?" Antony murmurs, the question rhetorical. He can see and feel how much Stephen likes it, the scent of his arousal thickening. He takes the ring in his teeth again and pulls harder.

"Fuck yes," Stephen grinds out, he writhes against the pull, precum bubbling from the slit of his penis.

Antony lets go and sits back a little. Slowly and deliberately he wets his fingers, pushing them between Stephen's thighs, into his boy, filling him as he bites down on the ring again, tugging sharply.

Collapsing back to the bed, Stephen cries out, the noise harsh in the quiet of the room. His asshole opens easily enough, he's still slick and loose from their sex earlier.

Fuck. Antony's so hard he could cut glass and getting to finally do this? It's been something he's been dreaming about since he first pierced Stephen. He licks and sucks and bites at the ring and the flesh around it, tongue teasing at Stephen's slit in between, fingers rubbing over that bundle of nerves inside him.

"Antony!..Fuck...ohmygod..." Stephen grabs at the bedding, his fists closing around the sheets. ""Fuckfuckfuck..." his eyes roll back in his head, and his back bows up as he shoots a warning shot of cum against Antony's lips.

Antony lifts his head only to get out a quick "Come for me," before his mouth is back on that ring, on Stephen's cock, teeth sinking in the head, tugging on that metal, fingers playing him from the inside out.

And Stephen does orgasm, hard, so hard his vision greys around the edges and his cries fill the room as he spasms beneath Antony's wicked mouth and teeth.

Antony groans and chases after every last drop of come, licking Stephen clean even as his fingers still move inside him, but finally he stills, grinning up at his husband, cock still hard and dripping. "My turn. You want to give me your mouth or should I fuck you?"

Stephen doesn't even try and speak, he merely pulls his legs up and splays his thighs, inviting his husband to take him, even though he knows it's going to hurt like hell, his prostate sore from being fucked and then fingered.

Antony kneels up, cock pressed to Stephen's hole and then in with a rough ragged groan. He shudders and grabs his husband's thighs, fucking into Stephen, eyes locked on his husband's face. "No one's ever felt this good," he breathes.

And no one has ever made Stephen feel like this, used, loved, taken and adored. He reaches out with trembling hands to pet over Antony's chest, to pluck at his nipples.

Antony nods, shifting so Stephen can reach him more easily, thrusting deep again and again, his pleasure building rapidly, flushing through his entire frame.

Each thrust pushes Antony's cock against Stephen's bruised prostate, and it _hurts_ but it's a delicious pain, one Stephen can allow himself to sink into. His hands don't still, not when he's gifted that closeness, he pinches and scratches, kneads and then lifting his head, he bites.

It's the bite that does it. Shoves Antony over the edge, his body seizing tight as his cock pulses, hot and thick, flooding Stephen's hole.

Stephen goes pliant as Antony orgasms - his eyes never leaving his husband's face as he watches every flicker of pleasure, watches as his darling man lowers all his shields, all his guards.

Cursing softly under his breath, Antony drops down, letting Stephen have his weight and kissing him firmly. "That was incredible," he whispers against his lips.

"Yeah, yeah it was," Stephen agrees softly, his arms closing around Antony, his body trembling. "I love you."

"I love you too," Antony murmurs, sinking into Stephen's embrace, in absolutely no hurry to move, ever.


End file.
